


Call Me By Your Name

by only_more_love



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Banter, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Multi, POV Bucky Barnes, Polyamory, Slice of Life, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 10:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16532426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_more_love/pseuds/only_more_love
Summary: Tony doesn't want to call him Barnes anymore—or Bucky.





	Call Me By Your Name

After dinner one night, maybe four-ish months into their...whatever it was that the three of them were doing, Tony slid out the bottom rack of the dishwasher and started putting dirty plates and silverware into it. He was very particular about how it got loaded, especially the utensils. According to Tony, if those were put in wrong, i.e. nested too close together, they didn’t clean up right. So whenever Tony was around for meals, he served as the designated dishwasher loader. Everyone had their quirks; everyone had their role(s) to play.

The future, man— There was so much about it that often still felt too fast, too loud, too much. While Bucky admitted the dishwasher was a handy modern convenience, sometimes he and Steve insisted on doing the dishes by hand. On those days, Tony would roll his eyes so hard Bucky thought his eyeballs would fall right out of his head—and make obnoxious comments about sexy nonagenarian Luddites. A well-timed kiss, or (occasionally) Bucky pulling his pants down and mooning Tony, would distract him just long enough that they could grab a sponge and the bottle of dish soap tucked in the under sink cabinet.

There was something sort of peaceful and orderly about scrubbing a plate until the food lifted off it, leaving it pristine, and watching soap suds slip down the drain. Do this thing, get that predictable result. That appealed to some part of Bucky. If only all marks came off so easily.

Humming a tune Bucky didn’t recognize, Tony bent down and slipped something into the utensil basket, things clicking and clacking as he moved them around. The accidental music brought a smile to Bucky’s mouth. When Tony stood back up, he bumped Bucky’s flesh shoulder with his own in a way that felt deliberate. Bucky looked up from where he was ladling leftover stir-fry and fruit salad into separate containers. “Yeah?”

“Can I tell you something?” Tony asked.

The spoon in Bucky’s right hand clinked as he set it in the glass bowl. “Yeah.”  Bucky leveled a sidelong glance at Tony and noted, without comment, how he’d braced the heels of his hands against the edge of the sink. “Go ahead.”

“I hate calling you Barnes,” Tony said, rapidly flicking his index finger against his thumb. “Did you know that?”

Bucky blinked. Now that he thought about it— “No. That’s all you ever call me.” How was he supposed to know that meant Tony hated the name? God, people were so strange sometimes.

“Exactly. Barnes sounds so...so impersonal. Like we’re strangers. And we’re not. Not anymore. But I don’t want to call you Bucky, either.”

“What’s wrong with Bucky?” He knew he sounded confused; that’s because he was.

“Nothing’s wrong with it. I just don’t like it. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Okay. Not sure what you want me to say here, Tony.”

“I―” Tony rubbed a hand over the back of his neck like it was itchy. “Barnes isn’t working for me. I’m not crazy about Bucky, either, but I’ll call you that if you really want.” He spun a glance at Bucky, but it quickly slid away, like a spooked rabbit. “I like… I like Jamie, though.”

 _Jamie?_   Bucky hadn't expected that. More than a handful of seconds ticked past, and by the time Bucky realized he was frowning and tried to tame his expression into something more neutral, Tony had leaned back against the counter and was gnawing his thumb, not looking at Bucky. All good signs. “You want to call me Jamie?”

“Yeah. Yes. If you’ll let me, I mean. Look, it sounds...soft, and I think you could use a little softness. But I want you to decide. You’ve had plenty that’s just been done to you by other people, without you having any say in the matter. I know what that’s like. I’m not going to be another person who takes another choice out of your hands. So just tell me, what do you want me to call you?”

 _Soft. Hm._  He didn't think he knew all that much about softness―or at least not much about his life had _been_ soft for a really long time. Bucky’s gaze shifted to Tony’s forearms, lightly tanned and sprinkled with dark hair, bare because he’d gotten home from a meeting, muttering something about pain-in-the-ass board members, tossed his suit jacket over the back of a chair, undone his collar, yanked at his tie, and rolled up his white shirtsleeves with a huge, exaggerated sigh.  

While Bucky was still considering how to answer Tony’s question, Tony made a face, biting down on his bottom lip until it whitened under the pressure from his teeth, and shook his head. “Never mind. Just forget I said anything. I’m overstepping, and―”  
  
“―you’re not overstepping,” Bucky said, hands raised as if he could actually stop the avalanche of words. It was futile, though, since Tony’d already built up too much momentum.

“You hate it. I knew you’d hate it. What was I even thinking? I’m making things weird. It’s, it’s fine. Honest. I’ll just call you Bucky.” Pausing for breath, Tony frowned and unrolled his sleeves until they hid his wrists again.

Eyebrows raised, Bucky telegraphed a glance across the kitchen at Steve, who was sitting at the kitchen table not even pretending to read the book splayed open in front of him. Steve just sent him back a half-shrug that Bucky took to mean,  _This one’s all you, buddy._

 _Gee, thanks, punk,_ thought Bucky and flipped his attention back to Tony. “Give a guy a second to think, Stark,” he said, keeping his voice mild.

“But I just told you―” Tony’s words cut off as Bucky’s hands shot out and caught Tony’s hands in a gentle grip, stilling them in the middle of him starting to re-roll the sleeves he’d unrolled a short while ago. The rambling sentences and Tony’s physical twitchiness signaled a whole lot of nervousness; Bucky was gradually learning how to read him. However fast Tony’s mouth was moving, Bucky knew his brain churned faster. Clearly, he’d been chewing on this name thing for a while before he’d finally said something. Man, why couldn’t communication be easier?

“It’s not a big deal. Stop freaking out,” Bucky said.

“I’m not freaking out,” replied Tony, his posture turning stiff.

Great. Now Bucky had offended him. “Yeah, you are.” Bucky smoothed his thumb over the sensitive skin on the inside of Tony’s wrist. “But that’s okay.”

At that, Tony’s shoulders sagged, and he said, “I’m just...fidgeting. But only a tiny bit.”

Bucky sent him what he hoped was an encouraging smile and held his index finger and thumb about an inch apart. “That much.” Still smiling, he slid his hands around Tony’s waist and lifted him to sit on an empty patch of the kitchen island. When Tony got like this, sometimes a distraction was the best thing Bucky and Steve could provide.

“Have I mentioned I love it when you guys manhandle me?” Tony asked, a little breathlessly.

“Yeah.” Bucky shrugged. “But only a couple hundred times.”

A chuckle emanated from their right. Bucky turned to look at Steve, who was sitting with his head tilted down toward the book he was reading, a smile flickering around the edges of his mouth.

“That’s because it’s wildly, insanely, ri _dic_ ulously hot.”

“You are so easy, dollface,” Bucky said, pleased that the tension had finally bled out of Tony’s body. Smiling, he pressed lightly on the insides of Tony’s knees so he could ease himself into the V of his legs.

“What can I say? I'm a slut for you, plum pudding,” Tony replied, his tone of voice indulgent as he tapped Bucky on the tip of his nose. Grinning down at Bucky from his perch, Tony linked his legs around Bucky’s waist and settled his arms over his shoulders.

“Ahem,” said Steve, face placid.

“And you, too, honey bunches of beefcake. Duh. That should go without saying.” Tony’s feet drummed against Bucky’s ass.

“It’s nice to be reminded sometimes, all the same,” Steve replied primly.

“Aww, Stevie, you’re not jealous, are you?” Bucky asked.

“Jealous? Nah.” This time, Steve glanced up from his reading, his gaze a warm caress that seemed to encompass both Tony and Bucky. Steve smiled, sweet and deliberate, and no matter that they’d lost decades, people, pieces of themselves, or that Steve’s body was stronger, broader, and bigger now―big enough, finally, to match the size of the heart he’d always had―the heart Bucky recognized and loved even after HYDRA had tried to steal that from him, Steve’s smile remained unchanged. The same as in 1944. The same as even earlier than that.

Bucky would and had endured hell to follow that smile, and the goodhearted man wearing it.

“I have everything I could possibly want,” said Steve.

 _Me, too._ “Sap,” Bucky finally muttered through the warm knot in his throat, sounding hopelessly fond to his own ears, and to his delight, all three of them laughed.

(It was a small thing, but not without meaning.

A small gift for the two people who gave him so much. So much he didn’t think he could give back.

Hearth.

Hope.

Home.)

Well, Tony did a little giggle-snort thing, and it was adorable enough that Bucky gave in to his basest urges and folded himself against Tony, tucking his chin against the warm lee of his throat. He could afford the occasional tiny luxury, right? He allowed himself this one―inhaling the faint, familiar spice of Tony’s faded, body-warmed cologne. “I heard that, ya big dork.”

“I don’t care if you did, fudgsicle,” Tony replied, his voice easy and draped in what Bucky recognized was affection―for _him,_ which still surprised Bucky sometimes―and stroked long lines down Bucky’s t-shirt-covered back.

“Fudgsicle?”

“Capsicle, fudgsicle...You know, because of the, the cryo, and the”―he tugged Bucky’s ponytail―“brown hair, and, and um, the...”

Bucky bit back a grin. Of course, Bucky knew what Tony meant; his brain might have been wiped and turned into HYDRA’s toy, but they hadn’t fried every single one of his brain cells. Tony was skilled at so many things that it was harmless fun to watch him fumble around a bit. Keeping him on his toes could only be a good thing. At the very least, it amused Bucky, who at this point got his jollies wherever he could find them.

When neither Bucky nor Steve replied, Tony leaned back from Bucky and whistled, brows arched. “Whew. Tough crowd.”

Unrepentant and still amused, Bucky guided Tony’s face toward his and kissed him on the cheek. “If the choice is between fudgsicle and Jamie, I guess Jamie’s okay, dumbass,” Bucky said, nudging the words against Tony’s warm cheek.

“Well, there’s always murder muffin,” Tony retorted, undoing Bucky’s ponytail and combing through the loose strands with tender fingers, just before he pressed closer and angled Bucky’s face for a thorough kiss.

It was just such a blunt and unapologetically Tony thing to say that Bucky snickered once he’d processed the words, nearly biting Tony’s tongue in the process.

“Careful with the merchandise, Jamie,” Tony said with a hint of emphasis on the name, and his gaze met and held Bucky’s like he was gauging his reaction, which of course he was. “I know how you like my tongue.”

For sure, the name sounded weird and unfamiliar, but not bad. Riffing off Tony’s knowing grin, Bucky winked. “On my dick.” He added a few leisurely hip rolls for lewd effect.

Tony’s grin widened, slow and filthy with promise. “Tease.”

“Not teasing.” Bucky mock pouted. “I’ll put out for you.”

“Maybe after you get done with the leftovers and Tony finishes loading the dishwasher,” said Steve in a dry voice.

Tony and Bucky groaned, nearly in unison, and Bucky snatched up a kitchen towel from the counter and lobbed it at Steve.

“Hey. Fair’s fair, fellas.” Steve caught the towel just before it landed on his golden head. “I cooked; you can handle clean-up.”

Nobody said anything else for several minutes, but it was a comfortable silence, not the kind teeming with unvoiced complaints or concerns. Bucky curled both his arms around Tony’s waist, and for once let himself just feel good without questioning it, or worrying about when it would be taken away, or thinking he didn’t deserve it because of the destruction and death he’d wrought under HYDRA’s control. (He knew he didn’t deserve it, but he’d let himself be selfish for a little while.)

Under HYDRA, touch had been synonymous with two things: violence and pain. Never pleasure. Never simple human comfort. He’d tried not to miss it. What point was there in missing something you thought you’d never have again?  

But here, now, he was with Steve and Tony, not HYDRA. Crucial difference. Here he could be a person, not a weapon. So Bucky sighed, eyes closed, and cuddled into Tony. If a little shame seared his cheeks because of how much he wanted it― _needed_ it―he resolutely ignored it and assumed neither Tony nor Steve could see it because of how he was positioned.

He let Tony take the entirety of his weight, let him hold him and pet him with warm hands that lingered over the tight slope of his shoulders, kneading with seemingly infinite patience, brushed along the back of his neck, and curved up into his hair. When a second set of hands slipped under the hem of his shirt and stroked along his lower back, Bucky smiled.

If either of these men, with their kind eyes and careful hands, wanted to call him Jamie, Bucky was more than okay with that.

“Thank you for giving me a choice,” Bucky finally murmured against the hollow of Tony’s throat―and got a kiss to the temple as a reply.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments, kudos, etc. are cherished and oohed and aahed at. If you feel up to it, please drop me a note. If not, I still hope you got something out of reading this. Be well. 
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> You can also find me at [tumblr](http://onlymorelove.tumblr.com).
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> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
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